The Stages of Love
by richfamous
Summary: A series of random drabbles about Halt and Lady Pauline (why in Gorlog's name is she not on the character list? Halt would be furious!). Not in chronological order at all so if you can't stand jumping about in time, don't read. Or get a grip on yourself. Lots of love and emotions. Just the sort of thing my grandmother would like. (Gorlog's teeth, I hate summaries!)
1. Goodbyes

Goodbyes

Halt sighed and pulled his cloak closer about him. It was a Ranger cloak for goodness sake. It was supposed to keep you warm and waterproof and – who was he kidding, he was cold, wet and miserable. As water slowly dripped into his eyes from the brim of his hood he began ticking off the list of his troubles.

1\. Banished from the kingdom for a whole year.

2\. He had been expelled from the Corps and had his Oakleaf confiscated.

3\. Gilan and Crowley were gone.

4\. He wouldn't be able to see Pauline for a year.

That last one hadn't originally been on the list but his conscience had decided to add it in. Now he sighed once again, louder this time. One year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

 _God, when did a year become so long!_

 _Last I looked time was flying by_ , he thought grimly, running a hand through his grey-streaked hair.

But the fact of the matter was that he was going to miss her very much. Her laugh. Her smile. Her arguing. The conversations they would have every other morning or so either in her office or on his front porch when Will and/or Alyss were not present. (Though he was sure that Will had tracked him a few times.) Yes, he was definitely going to miss her.

He remembered once how, several years ago, she had almost died on a mission to Skandia and he had raced up to the infirmary to find her sitting up, well enough and with her arm in a cast. She had laughed at his concerns, that beautiful, ringing laugh that she had, and patted him gently on the arm. "You're fickle, you Rangers," she said, still chuckling slightly. "You go parading around in your fancy cloaks and grim old masks being all mysterious and generally behaving like menaces to the more sociable side of society but as soon as you might lose your little pet you get all strung up about it."

He knew she'd been teasing him about the whole 'little pet' thing. It was hard to think of Pauline as being little, let alone anyone's pet. He sighed again. Great. At the rate he was going he was going to be a sighing expert by the time he got home.

"Women, eh," he murmured, giving Abelard a pat on the side of his neck. "They'll twist you round their little fingers."

Abelard pricked his ears and whinnied. But it wasn't because of Halt's remark. The rather obvious drumming of a horse's hoof beats punctured the general sound of water pattering onto leaves and into puddles and onto the muddy track that was 'the road'.

Halt instantly unslung his longbow and nocked an arrow to the string, not aiming yet, but ready for the enemy's appearance around the corner. But he wasn't supposed to be being pursued yet. He had twenty-four hours to get out of the kingdom. Still, he wasn't surprised. Rangers had enemies after all. Him maybe more than others.

To his surprise the hoof beats halted just short of the bend. There was a rather uncomfortable silence as Halt waited, expecting to hear the scrape of a sword being drawn from a sheath, or maybe the squelch of two feet landing in the mud.

"That's hardly fair, Ranger. Your arrows against my dagger." It was a woman's voice, with a hint of laughter in it. His mouth dropped open slightly. He knew that voice. It was the very voice he had been thinking about just moments before.

With a chuckle, Lady Pauline urged her black mare around the corner and pulled her hood back, to reveal silvery-red hair and a smile. But it was a sad sort of smile, he realised with a small tug of the heartstrings. And there was a glittering in her blue eyes that he was sure wasn't usually there.

"Pauline?" Halt asked, sliding from Abelard's back and moving towards her.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," said Pauline with the same sad-amused smile as before, following his example and also sliding from her horse.

Halt couldn't help but smile slightly. But before he could speak Pauline had begun speaking. He couldn't help noticing that her tone was rather desperate and that she was no longer smiling. "Why did you do it, Halt? Why?"

"Because," he said solidly, "I have to find Will and get him back before it's too late. You don't believe I go to bars on a regular basis anyway. It was all planned."

"Well it's a good cover-up," said Pauline ruefully. "We all know you can't hold your liquor."

"Thank you for your faith in me," said Halt sarcastically, remembering that time some ten years or so ago. Arald and Crowely were still laughing about it years later.

Suddenly Pauline stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug. For a second he was sort of frozen, his arms still at his sides. Then he gave in to temptation and wrapped his arms around her. Her body was warm and dry, in stark contrast to his, which he suspected was soaking her to the bone through her white courier dress. He could smell her too, a mixture of fresh parchment, Gallican perfume and a warm, earthy sort of smell which belonged to her and her alone.

She was shaking slightly and he realised that she was crying, tears trickling into his already rain-dampened shoulder. He hadn't a clue what he was supposed to do in this situation. She wasn't Will, who could be so easily reassured. She needed more than a sarcastic joke and a mission to go prank Sir Rodney. He wondered what she'd say if he asked her to do that.

So he settled for the non-verbal approach, holding her close and gently rubbing small circles on her back.

"You can't die," he heard her whisper into his shoulder, "you just can't."

"Who said I'm going to die?" It had been meant to come out as a light little … something. But his tone suddenly deadened and the remark came out to hang in the air, heavy as lead.

"Don't flatter yourself, Halt," she snapped, giving him a light punch in the back with her one hand. He winced. She sure could pack a lot of strength into that slender form of hers. "You know Gallica is in an unstable position. Half of the people will try to kill you while the other half will stand by and wait for you to be killed so that they can rob your bloodied corpse."

She really was upset. In all his time with her, she had shown nothing but sympathy for the poor, Gallican peasants who lived in constant terror for their lives. When Pauline no longer felt sympathy for the downtrodden you knew it was a bad, bad day.

"Well –" he began, feeling that his fighting skills could do with some justification.

"And don't you dare go on about how you're a Ranger and can take on the whole Gallican army at once and all that baloney!" she snapped. "You're only human, Halt. And if you aren't careful you're going to die. And I – I mean the King – couldn't bear that. Think of Crowley and Gilan and Baron Arald and Lady Sandra. You have no idea how heartbroken I – we – will be if you don't get back."

And then she dissolved into another series of short sobs, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. He was really going to have to see whoever made these Ranger cloaks and tell them to get their act together. Either that or she'd started growing her nails long when he wasn't looking.

He suddenly realised that he was crying himself, salty tears running down his bearded cheeks. It occurred to him that he wouldn't mind standing like this for the rest of the day. Or the week. Or the year.

Year. He had to go.

"I have to go, Pauline," he said. Instantly he regretted it and winced. It sounded so harsh and rejecting.

But before he could take it back she was pulling away, taking her warmth and her smell with her and rubbing her reddened nose with the back of her hand. "Of course," she said, composing herself. "Sorry I …" – _hugged me half to death and gave me a bruise on the shoulder_ – "held you up. Yes, you do need to go."

But he didn't. Not yet. He wanted to stand there just a little bit long. Imprint this moment and this image in his mind. She looked beautiful, he thought. The years had hardly had any effect on her. certainly, her long, wine red hair was streaked with bands of silver but other than that she had hardly changed. Her sapphire blue eyes which often danced brightly with intelligence and humour now shone with unshed tears. Smooth, creamy skin that he'd longed to touch since before he could remember was beaded with raindrops. He realised that she was twisting her hands in that adorable and rather unprofessional way that she had when she was uncomfortable. He wondered why. But then he supposed he wasn't in a state of mind to consider that. He was too busy staring at her pale pink lips and wanting to kiss her to wonder about that sort of thing. But then he'd wanted to kiss her for years. And when he saw her next it would be another year.

 _Maybe …_

 _Are you kidding, old man? She'd probably stab you with that dagger of hers! And then she'll leave and have that impression of your for the next year!_

With a sigh, he decided it was time for him to leave, before he did something he would regret. "Yes, you're right," he said, rather gruffly. And he turned and mounted Abelard and gave his horse a brief pat to the neck, gently tugging the reins in the right direction.

When he reached the next bend in the road he turned and saw her slender figure standing by her mare, waving. Blinking back his own tears he waved back at her.

And all the time one word was pounding through his head like the beats of a war drum.

 _Coward._

 _Coward._

 _Coward._

 _Coward._

 **Don't worry, you people who are reading my Harry Potter story. I will NOT abandon it. This is just something to scratch the itch in my brain with while I plot Lockhart's doom. Just kidding, I LOVE Ranger's Apprentice (and Harry Potter). :)**


	2. Talking to Yourself

Talking To Yourself

She was a coward and she knew it. She had let him get away, like all the other times before when she could have kissed him. She had let him ride off to spend a year with death around the corner, searching for an apprentice who might be dead. And she was left behind to worry and fret and curse herself for not at least trying. She wouldn't see him for a year. She would not be able to take long walks in the forest with him, listening to his sarcastic remarks and long stories about adventures with Crowley, Gilan or Will. She wouldn't be able to tease him about his obvious addiction to coffee.

 _But if I has kissed him, what would happen then?_

Would their friendship be ruined? Maybe. Would they be able to patch it up? Probably. She hoped. But what if she wasn't the only one who felt stuck in a bloody friend zone. What if …?

"Don't be silly!" she snapped out loud.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" Alyss asked, jumping slightly.

Pauline blinked. "What?" she asked her apprentice, looking up from the pile of paper they were looking over. Why did she feel so tired?

 _Coffee would help._

Halt always made the best coffee. Even better than Master Chubb's. Maybe she could go down to his cottage and –

 _He's gone you old fool._

She sighed loudly and returned to her work, forgetting Alyss until the young girl found the courage to say, "You seem rather strung up. You're sure you're not sick?"

 _Can you be sick of love?_

No, wrong word. Sick _with_ love.

"Fairly sure, Alyss," said Pauline, trying for a reassuring smile but having the feeling that she had failed miserably. "And you can stop calling me 'ma'am'. It's very annoying."

Alyss raised an eyebrow. It was very unlike Pauline to state outright that she was annoyed, angry or frustrated. She usually went for a more subtle approach, being a diplomat. But not today apparently. "I'm not so sure … Pauline," said Alyss. "You look a bit pale. And you keep talking to yourself."

"Really?" said Pauline. _God, what have I been saying out loud?_ "Like what?"

Alyss shrugged. "Just small things. Something about letting something go and being stupid and too late. You sound rather depressed."

 _Depressed. That sounds about right._

"Maybe you're right, Alyss. I'm going to have a walk in the grounds for a while. You go have a break. Find Jenny and help her bake some muffins. Or go pester Lady Sandra until she finds something for you to do."

"Alright," said Alyss, thoughts whirring. Lady Pauline _never_ cancelled work unless there was an emergency. Long after she had sent Alyss to bed and the castle had gone silent, Lady Pauline would be up, working on letters and treaties and agreements and policies and taxes and threats and who knew what-not-all. And then she would somehow manage to get up again at six o'clock in the morning and start all over again. But ever since she had come back from Castle Araluan a few hours ago she had been depressed, down and muttering to herself.

Alyss set off to find Lady Sandra. Maybe the older woman would be able to help her as to the reason for Lady Pauline's strange behaviour.

oo0oo

Pauline knew that Halt would probably tell her that she was breaking and entering, but she really couldn't care less. She didn't really know why she had come to his cabin in the first place. Maybe it was her inner compass directing her to the place where she'd usually go when she needed to talk about something. She now collapsed onto his front porch, into the chair which was sitting there and stared off into the forest.

"What are you going to do?" she asked herself out loud. "He's gone. For a whole year. Or maybe longer. Or maybe he won't come back at all. What then? You'll live knowing that you had a chance, no, thousands of chances, to kiss him and you never took one. Not even the last one."

She shifted slightly, thinking, before she addressed the other side of the argument. "But what if you do kiss him and he hates you for it? Won't that be worse? And what if he comes back and isn't able to talk to you again? That'll just be miserable!"

"So what? I'm supposed to wait for him to say he loves me first?"

"Obviously. That's what most people do."

"You must be joking me! He'd never say it first! Never!"

"You need to give him time!"

"I've given him time! I've given him buckets of time! And he's never said a word!"

"Which would tend to indicate that he's not interested in you at all!"

"What did I just say about him not saying it first?"

It wasn't every day that you saw the Head of the Diplomatic Forces at Redmont having an argument with herself, about a man no less. Crowley, crouching in the shadow of a tree nearby, was slowly and quietly killing himself laughing while Baron Arald and the rest of the hunting party looked on in a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Crowley," the Baron whispered, "are you going to help us find these deer or sit there killing your ribs?"

"How can you say that?" hissed Sir Rodney. "What about the problem that's sitting right there on Halt's porch?"

"What can we do?" Baron Arald asked. "We don't even know who in God's name she's talking about."

"Really?" said Sir Rodney, throwing his friend a patronising glance. "After all these years your wife still hasn't drummed it into that thick skull of yours."

"But –" sudden realisation dawned on Baron Arald. "Oh." It was all he could manage.

"Crowley," said Sir Rodney, giving the Ranger a nudge with his foot, "what are you going to do about this? You're the man's best friend. You know about twenty percent of what goes on in his head. (Which is a great deal more than can be said about the rest of us.) What are we going to do?"

"Find those deer," said Crowley.

"But –" began Sir Rodney.

Lady Pauline was gone. The patter of running feet headed off in the direction of the castle. And the stables.

 **Don't you love that Gollum moment that the character has when they start talking to themselves? No? That's just me? Oh well, we all knew I was crazy. :)**


	3. Drama at the Docks

Drama at the Docks

"Halt, what's that?" Horace asked, for about the millionth time since they arrived at Sandford, a seaside town with a bustling port of ships from Gallica, Iberion and even Hibernia.

"It's a crane, boy," said Halt, tiredly, heading in the direction of ships that were heading for Gallica. They were late. If he wanted to get out of the country within the twenty-four hour limit they would have to get a ship now.

"Like the bird?" Horace asked.

"Yes, like the bird," Halt sighed, scanning the docks until he found a ship which didn't look like it was bursting at the seams with goods and passengers.

As he headed over to the short, pot-bellied man who looked to be the captain, Horace asked, "And what does it do?"

 _Has the lad never heard of the words 'observe and understand'?_

"I'll tell you later," said Halt. Then, turning his full attention to the captain. "You're heading for Gallica?" he asked, just to clarify. He had never personally been shipped to the wrong country, but Crowley had, on one occasion, landed himself up in the middle of war-torn Toscana with only his weapons and a stray cat for company, when he had originally intended to pop over to visit an old friend at the borders of Picta.

"That's right sir," said the captain, glancing somewhat uneasily at Halt. The power of the Ranger, Halt observed, holding back a smile.

"How much for two passengers?" Halt asked.

 _One a Ranger_ , he added mentally. That was sure to knock down the price. You didn't want to get on the bad side of Rangers. They didn't like haggling. (Meaning they were likely to take out their favourite toys and show you how to play with them.) So, not wanting to have an arrow shot in his face from the massive longbow the Ranger kept at his side, the captain stated his (second) lowest fee, "Three shillings each, sir."

While Halt dug around in his pockets, Horace stared around him, taking in the sights and smells of the dock. As he did so he caught sight of someone he knew. Prodding Halt in the elbow he whispered, "Halt, you haven't done anything to offend the Diplomatic Corps lately have you?"

Halt blinked owlishly at him for a second, then said, "Well not _lately_." Truth be told, if his entire life story were to be excavated he was sure that every lord, knight and quite a few other people in the Kingdom would have a bone to pick with him. But even if he had done something against the Diplomatic Corps, he was fairly sure that Pauline would have smoothed things over for him.

 _And now you aren't going to see her for a year._

 _And she still thinks you're just her friend._

Once more he found himself running over all the possible outcomes that could have played out, had he kissed her when she came after him to say goodbye. There was the rather obvious one, where she slapped him around the head and stormed off. Or maybe not stormed off. Maybe she'd try to smooth things out, the way she always did. It was her job.

But then there was that very unlikely scenario which he had always hoped for but was sure would never come about. She would kiss him back.

He'd only been kissed by three women in his life. His mother, on his forehead before he went to sleep. His sister, on his cheek, in farewell. And finally his girlfriend, before she had been married off to some rich Hibernian warlord when he was fourteen. He didn't know how many men Pauline had kissed, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. If he knew one thing about her, it was that she never made commitments, professional or otherwise, lightly.

 _I wonder what it would be like to kiss her._

He suddenly became aware of Horace saying something and tugging on his sleeve. "What?" he asked.

"I'm just saying that Lady Pauline's looking rather purposeful," said Horace, "and you might want to hide behind this –"

He never got to finish his sentence. The words 'Lady Pauline' were barely out of his mouth before Halt spun around and Pauline, who was in the middle of an intense argument with a travelling cloth tradesman as to whether he had or had not seen a Ranger (couldn't they just say yes or no?) caught sight of his face out of the corner of his eye and began marching towards him with an indeed very purposeful expression on her face.

"Aaaand you're screwed," Horace muttered, slowly retreating. He had only seen Lady Pauline in a rage once during his time as a ward at Castle Redmont. And it was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

To the warrior apprentice's immense surprise, Lady Pauline's face softened as she neared Halt, and he was almost sure he saw her twisting her hands in a gesture which, on anyone else, he was sure meant they were nervous. But that couldn't be right! Lady Pauline didn't do nervous. It wasn't even part of her vocabulary, surely.

Pauline drew to a halt a metre or so in front of Halt. **[Ha! Pun!]** She was aware that she was twisting her hands, a habit she thought she had long ago eradicated, and that her hair was coming loose of its bun and that she had mud on her normally immaculate dress and that she probably looked like a nervous wreck.

 _I probably am_.

What she was going to do could wipe out any hope of a relationship with him, romantic or otherwise. But service in the Diplomatic Corps wasn't all about bargaining and spying and manipulating. It was also about guts. And Lady Pauline hadn't become Head of the Diplomatic Forces at Redmont for nothing.

"Pauline, are you alright?" Halt's voice asked. He must have seen her nervous expression, for he had moved closer and his one hand was resting on her arm, an expression of concern gracing his usually stern features.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, something Halt had been battling not to do mere seconds ago and mumbled something unintelligible into her boots.

Halt couldn't believe it. Pauline looked like a nervous schoolgirl, blushing deep pink as she muttered something that he couldn't hear. He had to admit, the blush didn't look too bad on her and the slightly tangled reddish-silver hair was a look he wouldn't mind seeing on her more often.

 _After you get back from your year spent in exile._

This year of exile thing was getting more and more annoying with every minute!

"Halt," said Pauline, finally raising her head. She was still twisting her hands and her face had, if anything become even redder, but her voice was firm once more. Now that she was looking at him he could see the nervousness in those forget-me-not blue eyes of hers. What had happened?

"Halt, I, um, just want to let you know that, I …" She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She could do this. She shook herself and then said, all in a rush, "Youhaveveryrighttohatemeforthis,Halt," and kissed him.

Halt never really understood what she said before. The word 'hate' never even entered the equation. All he could think, in those few precious moments, was how soft her lips really were and, when she felt him respond at took it as the acceptance it was, how right her fingers felt, tracing through his silver-black hair.

Then suddenly she pulled away, eyes glittering with a mixture of farewell tears and joy. "When you get back," she said simply, one hand still resting on his shoulder, "I'll be waiting." Then she smiled and was gone.

Halt blinked and looked around, readying himself for the inevitable stares and exclamations. But there weren't any. By some divine intervention (or sheer dumb luck) no one had seen the exchange between the Ranger and the Diplomat.

Except Horace.

The poor boy was standing a way to his left, jaw slack and eyes bulging and cringing for all he was worth.

 _Poor lad._

"Is there … um … something you need to … erm … tell me?" Horace asked, looking as though his throat had just constricted to the diameter of a straw.

"I'm a Ranger, I don't _need_ to tell you anything," Halt pointed out, somewhat taken aback by how raw his voice sounded.

"Yes well, it would do my mental health good to know that you two don't do that, you know, often," said Horace, cringing.

"Well then your mental health will be pleased to know that the answer is no," said Halt.

"So why –?" began Horace.

"There's a time for asking questions and a time for shutting up, boy. You've reached the shutting up stage."

As Halt proceeded onto the ship Horace muttered to himself, "I think he means there's a _subject_ for asking questions and a _subject_ for shutting up."

Halt heard him. But he was too busy watching a tall, white clad figure standing at the docks and waving, just as she had done earlier in the day. But now the sun was setting and its rays caught the copper and the silver webbed in her hair gleamed off the white of her gown. When he'd lived in Hibernia he'd heard tales of the Goddess of the Setting Sun. He'd never really been able to picture her.

 _Until now._

 **Yay! Wipes tear from eye. ;)**


	4. Conversations in the Night

Conversations in the Night

"Pauline?"

 _Curse being a light sleeper!_

With an uncharacteristic groan, Pauline rolled over to face her husband. For goodness sake, she couldn't even see him in the dark!

"What is it, Halt?" she asked, being careful to ladle her question with tiredness.

Apparently Halt didn't get the hint. "I was just thinking –"

"A dangerous pastime," Pauline muttered darkly.

Halt frowned slightly at his own line being thrown back at him. She could be vicious even half asleep. "I was thinking that if we could only sort out the Arridi tribes who grow good coffee from the ones who don't, we'd know who to make alliances with and this whole coffee shortage we've been having lately could be easily solved and –"

He was cut off by a pillow being smacked in the face. It almost knocked him off the bed!

"What?" he asked, as his wife rolled over, facing away from him.

"You woke me up in the middle of the night just to talk about preventing a _coffee_ shortage?" Pauline snapped. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream! "Are you mad?"

There was a brief silence and then, "Would you have married me if I wasn't?"

Another brief silence and then Pauline rolled over to lie next to him again, letting his fingers come to rest in her hair. "True," she said. "Now, we can talk all you want about singling out Arridi tribes to feed you coffee if you give me my pillow back."

 **Just a wacky little idea that's been floating around my head for a while! :)**


	5. What Rangers Are Afraid Of

What Rangers Are Afraid Of

Halt was not generally a morning person. He would usually have to drag himself forcefully from bed and then stagger to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee (or two) before his brain could function to the point where he could say the words "Good morning" without it sounding like a drunken grizzly bear after a pub crawl. Pauline, Crowley, Baron Arald, Gilan and even Will had often teased him about it.

But strangely enough he didn't feel the usual grogginess this morning. Maybe the fact that, for the first time in his life, he wasn't alone in the bed had something to do with it. Maybe it was because he was too busy feeling happy. He wasn't sure. But for once he thought he would rather lie still and look than make himself a cup of his precious coffee.

Long, silver-red hair fell in a tangled curtain around her head, glinting slightly in the morning sunshine that slid through the curtains of the room. Her head rested sleepily against his shoulder, her eyes still shut and a small smile playing across her lips. For about the millionth time in his life, Halt thought that she was beautiful.

 _And now she's your wife._

 _Took your time didn't you._

"What are you looking at, Ranger?" He hadn't realised she was awake. Her tone was light and playful. It was a tone that he knew she reserved only for those she trusted. If she didn't trust you, she was serious as death.

"A very beautiful woman as it happens," he said, choosing to go along with her game. "But don't tell my wife."

"Mmmm," she murmured in agreement, snuggling in closer. "I hear she's a selfish, sour-faced old crone who should have made herself a family long ago."

"Well then you must have met her on the day she had to go visit the castle stables when they hadn't been cleaned for a week," he remarked.

She gave him a quick pinch in the rib. "Hey! That place reeked to high heaven!"

"I don't know how you even got a chance to smell it. You were in and out of there like a flash of lightning," he chuckled as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her face towards him.

She reached an arm behind his head to pull him in closer to kiss him, her fingers running through his (finally properly cut) hair. One thing he had found easy to get used to after their engagement was that he could kiss her. And, despite the general impression, he had kissed her, a lot. Because she certainly knew how to kiss.

"Alright, you lovebirds, that's enough pillow talk for the day!" shouted Crowley's voice from behind the door.

Instantly the two broke apart and _glared_ at the door in unison.

"Crowley as soon as I step outside that door you are going to die!" Halt shouted, as Pauline clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Judging by what I heard to seconds ago you won't be coming out of there for a _loooonnnnnggg_ time!" Crowley retorted.

"That's it, he's getting an arrow through the eye!" snarled Halt, releasing Pauline and moving towards where his weapons leaned against the wall.

But Pauline grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back, laughing full tilt now. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips before turning back towards the door and calling, "Crowley, unless you leave that door and go down to breakfast like a good boy, I am going to get up, go out there and skin you alive, do you understand?"

There was a brief pause. Then Crowley's voice, now sounding rather panicked, asked, "Just out of interest, do you have any clothes on?"

Pauline pretended to consider for a second before saying, "No."

"I'm going!" Crowley cried. Seconds later the sound of panicked pattering feet heralded the Ranger Commandant's retreat to the dining hall.

"That wasn't funny," said Halt, as Pauline's laughter dissolved into chuckles.

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years it's that Rangers are afraid of two things – losing and naked women."

 **Essentially what happened when my sister got married ... I can still remember the look of horror on my cousin's face when he came into the kitchen for breakfast. :)**


	6. Valentine's Day Char-Grilled

Valentine's Day … Char-Grilled

"Well," said Lady Pauline, slipping into a seat in her sitting room, "that's all of our menfolk out of the way for the day."

"Finally," said Lady Sandra, sinking gratefully into a pile of cushions with a sigh of relief, "I don't know if I'd be able to survive another minute of Arald and his news about that new trading deal we're making with Alpina. To be honest I think he's just looking forward to the knock-down price on chocolate and cheese."

"Well Will's been indoors for the whole week and I thought he was going to die from all his fidgeting. Honestly, it's like watching a trapped squirrel worrying about whether all his nuts are going to be where he buried them in spring," said Alyss wearily.

"Just bear in mind," said Lady Pauline, "that the marriage vows don't say that the 'death do us part' thing mentions who initiates the death."

Lady Sandra laughed. "Next thing I know you'll be telling me that you sleep with your dagger under your pillow!"

"No, my husband does that," said Lady Pauline drily. "Several times I've wondered how I didn't get punctured through the lung."

"But if it's under his pillow then how can it get anywhere near your – never mind," said Alyss, retreating as Pauline shot her former apprentice her best 'shut up' look.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Sandra glanced at Lady Pauline who smiled and said, "I invited Leah over. You know, Sir Rodney's fiancée. The one who stopped him from breaking everyone's ears with cheers at Cassandra's wedding."

"Ah yes, we are eternally indebted to that woman," said Lady Sandra with a smile.

Lady Pauline called out, "It's open, Leah, come in!"

Leah was an attractive, thirty-something woman with long black hair done in a braid and twinkling golden-brown eyes. Her work with horses meant a simple, practical style of dress which was still more formal than the dressing gowns that the other three ladies were wearing.

"Sorry I'm late," Leah apologised with a smile. "I sort of got held up by Rodney."

"What did he want? Good luck for the hunt?" Alyss asked. Then she yawned and reached for the coffee and the much-needed stimuli that came with it.

"No," said Leah with a smile. "He had a Valentine's day present for me."

"What?" spluttered Alyss, choking on her coffee.

"A Valentine's day present," Leah repeated. "Are you alright?"

"No," said Lady Sandra. "We are most definitely not alright."

"I'd forgotten," groaned Pauline, sinking deeper into her chair. "Of course we had to be negotiating that stupid trade deal with Alpina now. I've been losing sleep over that and for what – to forget about Valentine's Day!"

"What are we going to do?" gasped Alyss, head in hands.

"Well there's no use sitting around doing nothing," said Lady Sandra. "First of all, what's the time, Leah?"

"Two o'clock in the afternoon," said Leah.

"What?" spluttered Alyss.

"Alyss, for the sake of your health, stop drinking coffee!" snapped Pauline, giving her former apprentice a few much needed pats on the back.

"But it can't be that late!" protested Lady Sandra. "I only got up two hours ago!"

"Yes, that's right," said Leah.

Alyss groaned and sank back into her chair. " _Why_ did all the work have to fall into this one week? I don't know if I can even think properly!"

"Well," said Pauline, leaping into action, "about what time will the men come back?"

"In about four hours I'd say," said Lady Sandra. "If it's a quick, successful hunt, maybe three."

"But what can we do in four hours?" asked Alyss.

"Well what about starting with dinner first?" said Leah. "There's no point if you don't have dinner."

"Strange but true, yes," said Alyss.

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Lady Pauline murmured.

"Don't I know it," said Lady Sandra.

oo0oo

"So, how's life?" Will asked as Halt joined the hunting party outside the gates of Castle Redmont.

"Fine," Halt said in a somewhat grumbling tone as he led Abelard to the front of the group.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Will asked as he nudged Tug after his mentor.

"Let's just say that a certain side of the bed was very empty last night. Again!" Halt grumbled, resting his head on his hand, grim face obscured by his cowl.

"Oh, you have that problem too?" said Will.

"What do you mean?" Halt asked.

"Alyss has barely been home for a week," Will explained. "This is how my morning goes: 'Morning dear, bye dear, hopefully see you tonight dear' and then there's this sort of thing on my cheek which I _think_ is meant to be a kiss and there's this flash of blonde light and then I'm left feeling like a hurricane invaded my room."

"At least she's _there_ in the morning," said Halt grimly.

"Well, look who's looking very down in the dumps!" exclaimed Baron Arald, approaching them atop his battle horse.

"I guess your wife's been in your bed lately," said Halt sullenly.

"What?" asked Baron Arald, blinking rapidly.

"He's right, that does sound rather wrong, Halt," said Will.

"As a matter of fact, she hasn't," said Arald. "She's been off helping Lady Pauline with that treaty with Alpina. You know it'll mean chocolate will be more readily accessible once the treaty is made?"

"Hopefully our wives will as well," said Halt.

"Yes, hopefully," said Arald. "Sandra was still half asleep when I left. I told her I was going and she sort of made this grunting noise. Not sure she actually registered what was going on."

"Join the club," said Halt.

"Hey friends, acquaintances and enemies!" called a bright, cheerful voice. Halt groaned and turned to face the sandy-haired Ranger Commandant who grinned broadly as he came up to them, ignoring the somewhat shocked look that came across his friends' faces. "Ready for a hunt?" he asked, still grinning stupidly.

"Umm, yes," said Will, staring at Crowley as though he'd grown horns. Baron Arald laughed quietly into his boots and Halt looked at him in open-mouthed shock.

"What?" asked Crowley, shooting his best friend a concerned look. "Are you alright, Halt?"

"I'm fine," said the Ranger, regaining his composure, "but you've got something on your face."

"What?" asked Crowley, a hand going up, feeling for a splatter of mud or a stray leaf.

"More to the point," said Arald through a torrent of chuckles, "who's your girlfriend?"

"And _why_ is she wearing lipstick?" asked Will, staring with a traumatised look on his face at Crowley's cheek.

"Oh, God help me," Crowley muttered, retreating behind his cowl, where the rather obvious pink smear was hidden. Then, in a defensive tone, "It _is_ Valentine's Day!"

Instantly everyone froze. Silence descended upon them like the wings of death. Finally Halt worked up the courage to ask, "It's what?"

"Valentine's Day," said Crowley. "She was in an amorous mood."

"Well, we really are moving forward," said Rodney, joining the conversation. "Using long words aren't we, Ranger?"

"Rodney," said Baron Arald, "is it Valentine's Day?"

"Yes," said Sir Rodney with a grin. "Leah made sure I remembered."

"I keep forgetting he's engaged now," Will muttered.

"Gorlog's rotten teeth!" exclaimed Halt.

"I don't think Gorlog has rotten teeth," said Will.

"Well he does now!" snapped Halt. "Pauline is going to skin me alive!"

"If she can summon the energy to do it," Baron Arald pointed out.

"Don't you worry," said Halt darkly, "she always finds some last reserves of strength."

oo0oo

"What do you mean, Master Chubb went on holiday?" Lady Sandra asked the maid.

The maid, an eighteen year old girl who had definitely not thought facing off against a nightgown clad Lady Sandra was part of her job description, managed to say, "Well, he has been very sick lately and I think all his apprentices and helpers have sort of gone off to spend the day with their … sweethearts."

Lady Sandra groaned and gave herself a quick pinch in the arm to keep herself awake. "One man leaves and the whole thing comes crashing down. What do we do now?"

"Well there's really only one thing we _can_ do," said Alyss firmly. "Make dinner ourselves."

"Are you kidding me?" said Pauline. "I've never cooked a dinner in my life."

"Nor have I," said Lady Sandra.

"Yes," said Alyss, "that's kind of the problem being raised as an aristocratic lady."

"Well I'm sure Master Chubb has recipes somewhere," said Pauline, shoving a stray strand of hair out of her face. "If we can just find them we can have a crack at it."

"You might want to get dressed properly first, my ladies," said the maid tentatively.

"Yes," said Lady Sandra. "And I guess I'd better get my hair tied up if I don't want it to get covered in flour."

"Well do us a favour and don't try to brush it or we'll barely have started this meal before the men are home," said Alyss.

"She's right," said Lady Pauline, "it looks like an out-of-control black bird's nest."

They had almost made it out of the kitchen when the maid called, "My Lady Sandra, might I be able to go out now. Since you're making the meal. You know …"

"It's Valentine's Day, I know," said Lady Sandra wearily. Then, "Go. Have fun."

"Thank you, my lady!" the maid called and streaked from the room, nearly tripping over an overturned barrel of pickles as she did so.

"So now we're all alone in a vast, unexplored kitchen," said Pauline.

oo0oo

"What do you even give a woman on Valentine's Day?" Halt asked as the hunting party began to make its way into the forest.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I gave Leah a new knife made in Arrida," said Sir Rodney cheerfully.

"You gave her what?" asked Baron Arald, a look of absolute shock on his face.

"I don't think that's usual," said Will slowly.

"That's the point," said Sir Rodney. "It was supposed to be _unusual_."

"Well rest assured that we won't be making a tradition of it," said Baron Arald.

"Yes, I think Pauline is quite happy with her current dagger," said Halt.

"Alright," said Will impatiently, "that's weapons off the gift list. What can we get them?"

"Stag heads?" suggested Baron Arald. "We are going on a hunt."

"That would be a wonderful gift," said Halt, "… back in caveman times."

"I'm just putting ideas out, Halt," placated the Baron.

"Well they're pretty terrible ideas," Halt muttered.

"What about chocolate?" suggested Will.

"I think if Sandra hears the word 'chocolate' one more time, she'll take a leaf from Pauline's book and attack you with a carving knife," sighed Baron Arald as he ducked a tree branch.

"Pauline didn't use a carving knife," said Halt with great dignity.

"I'm sure she didn't," said Sir Rodney.

"What about coffee?" suggested Crowley, joining the conversation with a grin.

"If Alyss drinks another cup of coffee, she will spontaneously combust," said Will. "And since I'm rather fond of seeing her in one piece, I think I'll pass."

"Same here," said Halt grimly.

"What did you get for your girlfriend, Crowley?" Baron Arald asked curiously.

"Don't ask him!" protested Halt. "He's the most hopeless romantic this side of the Narrow Sea!"

"Hey! It was my idea to send you and Pauline together on as many missions as possible!" shot back Crowley.

"You what?" asked Halt.

"You heard," said Crowley, grinning broadly. "Anyway, I got Susan a Ranger bow and a new quiver full of arrows."

Halt said, "Rodney, meet your new best friend for life, Crowley, yet another man who does not seem to understand that weapons fit into the 'war' category, not the 'love' one."

"Oh look, duck!" said Crowley airily.

"Where?" asked Halt, glancing around. He promptly smashed headfirst into the limb of a tall oak tree, landing him with a thud on the ground.

The other riders dismounted, Crowley grinning boyishly. "In front of you," Baron Arald said, in answer to Halt's previous question.

"I did warn you," said Crowley, still grinning broadly.

"I'm going to kill you," Halt groaned, as he struggled into a vaguely upright position.

As Crowley helped his friend back onto Abelard's back ("Why didn't you warn me?" Halt admonished Abelard, "Even my horse is against me!") Will let out a whoop of joy.

"What?" asked Sir Rodney.

"A tree!" exclaimed Will, eyes dancing brightly. "I'll give her a tree!"

"So you're going to uproot a tree, cart it all the way down to your cabin and wrap it up?" said Halt. "Good luck, my lad."

"No!" said Will. He was practically doing a jig on Tug's back. "Just a small one! And you know those small trees that people keep in their houses. That you can style and everything? I think they're called bonsais."

"Wonderful," grumbled Halt as he once again mounted Abelard. "Now, that's one down. What about the rest of us?"

"New dress?" suggested Crowley.

"Unless our tailors have some magical skills that we aren't aware of, they won't be able to make a dress in less than three days," said Sir Rodney with a yawn.

"Imagine it," said Crowley gleefully. "Halt trying to organise a dress for Lady Pauline. He wouldn't know where to start!"

"Like you'd do any better!" Halt shot back.

"Wait!" exclaimed Baron Arald. "Dresses! Dancing! There's an Iberion dancer staying in the village isn't there?" Then, before any of them could remark on it, "And Sandra's wanted to learn one of those God-awful dances from Iberion for ages! I'll bet the Iberion girl even has the shoes needed to do it in! I've got it!" And with that Baron Arald took off into the trees, sending clouds of birds flurrying into the air in fright.

"Well Halt," said Crowley, "looks like you're the only one who hasn't thought of something."

"Shut up!" snapped Halt.

 _Help me!_

oo0oo

"So, what are we making?" Lady Sandra asked.

"Well, what's something that they'll all eat?" Alyss asked.

"As I remember they all like roast beef, carrots, potatoes and chocolate cake," said Pauline.

"And we don't know how to make any of that," Lady Sandra reminded her gloomily as she leafed through one of Master Chubb's cookery books.

"Well we'll just have to wing it," said Pauline.

 _God did I actually just say that? Well, that's a first._

"Let's just get this over with," said Alyss. She walked up to where the aprons were all hung up on hooks and unhooked three, one for each of them.

"Dibs on the one with the flowers," said Lady Sandra. Then, seeing Pauline's raised eyebrow. "I may as well look decent while I fail at cooking!"

And it was a failure. They all assigned each other different jobs. Lady Sandra was given the job of boiling the potatoes and carrots. Alyss was given the job of roasting and seasoning the meat. And Pauline had to make the chocolate cake, icing and all.

To cut a long story short the meat was on fire on one side and still dripping blood on the other and most of the spices used to season it were in the fire. They had run out of firewood halfway through boiling the potatoes only to find that the water they had used was dirty and that you _weren't_ supposed to skin them before boiling. The carrots didn't even get to be cooked. As for the cake … it wasn't really a cake. It was a slouching, oozing mess of half-cooked brown batter with an even more slippery oozing mess on top which might have once been butter icing.

As one the three women looked at each other and said, "Oh dear."

oo0oo

"Oh dear," said Halt. He was sitting on a log overlooking the site where the hunting party had come to rest after a successful kill count of eight deer. The others were sitting out in the open, sharing sandwiches and laughing merrily at some joke one of them had cracked. Halt sighed and went back to worrying. He had no ideas. He hadn't a clue what he was going to do.

The fact was that Pauline would probably forgive and forget in no time flat. But he didn't _want_ her to have anything to forgive or forget. He _wanted_ to give her something. It was Valentine's Day for Gorlog's sake! He sighed again and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"I'm well and truly screwed!"

"Well, it's not every day you hear a Ranger say that."

Looking up Halt recognised Horsemaster Ulf as he crouched down to sit beside the smaller man. "Can it be shared with a common Horsemaster or is it a state secret?" he asked, offering Halt one of his sandwiches.

Realising he was in fact very hungry and that he hadn't brought a lunch of his own, Halt accepted. He wasn't particularly in a social mood right now. All he really wanted to do was find a solution to his problem. But that was hardly Ulf's fault. And maybe he might have a solution to his problem.

 _Though I doubt it._

"So," said Ulf, a rare twinkle in his eye, "am I worthy?"

"I forgot it was Valentine's Day." Halt decided to just get straight to the point, no need for any shenanigans.

"Well I hardly could, with all my apprentices going on about it. They wouldn't stop and – wait. Hang on, you're married now aren't you?"

"Yes," said Halt.

"Ah, now I understand," said Ulf, nodding his head. "That is serious."

"And I haven't a clue what I'm doing," said Halt gloomily.

"You've got nothing to give her?" Ulf asked.

"Nothing," said Halt.

"Well I'm no expert on romance but I'd say I have a fair grasp of the functions of Lady Pauline's mind," said Ulf. "And last I looked; she wasn't too concerned with material things. You love her and she knows it and I don't think you need some foolish little trinket to prove it. I say you go back home, give her a kiss and tell her you love her."

"Well, I guess it's all I can do," said Halt with a sigh.

"I have one problem with that statement," said Ulf, eyes still twinkling. "It should be: I guess it's what only I can do. Face it, if it was to go up to her and do that, she'd gut me then and there. You're the only man around who can do that and not die in the process. I say that's special."

And with a stretch and the thudding of heavy boots into grass Ulf was gone to join in the merriment, leaving Halt to ponder his pronouncements in the shadows. The Ranger remained still for a while, deep in thought. Then he smiled a little and said, "Who'd have thought it? Ulf, a fount of romantic wisdom!"

oo0oo

The friends all reunited at the gate of Redmont Castle. Crowley had turned down an invitation for supper, saying he had 'other business' and retreated off into the night, away from Sir Rodney's teasing. Sir Rodney had agreed to come and had gone off to pick up Leah. Halt was leading Abelard to the stables with a stag thrown over his back (Abelard's obviously!) when he caught sight of Will and Baron Arald standing dejectedly by the stables, talking. Well, Baron Arald was standing – Will was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.

"What happened to you?" Halt asked, halting beside them.

Both of them looked up at him, looking rather defeated. "We failed," said Will gloomily. Then, when Halt raised a questioning eyebrow, "It turns out it's not so easy to just find bonsais in the forest."

Halt turned his attention to Baron Arald who sighed loudly and said, "Well, let's just say that the Iberion dancer thought I was attacking her and now she's gone." That sounded about right, the bruise on his cheek looked pretty bad. Now that he looked at him, Will was also covered in scratches, some of which looked quite serious.

"So, did you get anything?" Will asked. "Aside from the stag?"

"No, nothing," said Halt.

"Well you look pretty happy for someone who's got nothing," Baron Arald pointed out.

"This isn't my happy face," said Halt. "This is my 'I told you so' face."

"You never told us anything!" exclaimed Will.

"That's hardly the point," said Halt.

"Well, I think it's time we went in and faced the music," said Baron Arald presently. "First let's take that stag to Master Chubb, see if he can make something of it."

After they had tended to their horses they headed for the kitchens in grim silence. They all knew that facing their wives was going to be a grim task.

They had almost made it to the kitchens when Baron Arald froze, nose up and sniffing. Then he began to run towards the kitchens yelling, "Something's burning."

"Imagine that," said Will. "Master Chubb burning something." And then he and Halt ran off after the baron.

They caught up with the baron just in time to burst into the kitchen together, to be greeted by a scene of carnage.

It looked as if every single barrel, sack and box in the whole kitchen had been opened and rifled through. Potatoes, carrots and various other vegetables lay around the floor. A half burned, half raw steak was lying in the dying coals, smoking slightly. Dirty water was spilled all over the floor. The tables were covered with smears of blood (hopefully animal) and what looked like icing. About fifty different knives and other cooking utensils were strewn everywhere.

And, right in the middle of it all, three women sat by the fire, heads in hands, covered in smears of soot and with their hair coming away from careless buns. At the sound of the door opening they all looked up. And, as one, Baron Arald, Halt and Will, dropped their jaws in awe.

All three of their wives stared back at them for a few seconds, then groaned and got to their feet.

"What … happened?" Baron Arald managed, beginning to pick his way towards Lady Sandra through the wreckage of what had once been his (well, Master Chubb's) kitchen.

"Master Chubb went on holiday," said Lady Sandra, apparently too tired to move.

"So we tried to cook," said Lady Pauline, rather unnecessarily.

"And we failed," Alyss finished.

"Well, it's a good thing Halt and I can cook then," said Will. He was the first to reach his wife and sat down next to her, before realising that he was sitting on what was supposed to be a chocolate cake.

"And we sort of forgot it was Valentine's Day," said Lady Sandra, finally summoning the strength of body and mind to stand up, only to collapsed against her husband with a groan. "And we kind of failed at everything."

"Well, I got punched in the eye by an Iberion dancer today so I think we're even," said Baron Arald, giving her a half-hug.

"That's so sweet," said Lady Sandra, giving him a quick kiss.

"And Will, what happened to you?" Alyss asked. "You look like you were attacked by a gang of feral cats!"

"It's not a gang, Alyss, it's a 'glaring'," said Will, "but that's actually a long story."

"Well in that case you can tell me while I take care of you injuries," said Alyss firmly. "Come on, Lady Sandra, I believe bruises get worse the longer you wait."

"Good idea," said Lady Sandra. Then she turned to Halt and said, "And Halt, since you're the only man around here who hasn't been attacked by aggressive dancers or cat robbers I suggest you get some cooking done."

Finally the kitchen was empty, apart from Halt and Pauline obviously. Halt couldn't help but think that, even covered in soot, cow blood and badly mixed butter icing, she looked beautiful, her coppery silver hair falling around her shoulders. "Well," he said, "let's get started. First, we'd better clean the table so we don't get food poisoning."

"How romantic," Pauline murmured, taking the cloth he offered her.

But whatever she was going to say he cut her off with a kiss. Pauline was at first taken by surprise, but then responded with equal eagerness, dropping the cloth and wrapping an arm around his neck as his hand came to rest in the small of her back, rubbing small circles.

"I love you, you know," Halt said, as he pulled away.

Pauline merely smiled and said, "I wouldn't mind a little more proof." So he pulled her closer and kissed her again. Longer this time.

Outside the door, Will whispered, "When you said 'take care of your injuries' I was under the impression that you meant _take care of your injuries_ not 'eavesdrop'."

"Oh shush, they're so cute together!" Alyss hissed.

 **I suddenly looked at my word count and realised this is MUUUUUCH longer than any of my other one-shots. Still, I like it. Hope you do too! :)**


	7. The Wrinkle

The Wrinkle

Before he was married, Halt had been used to wake up cold. But recently he had become used to having a warm body close to his to keep the sheets warm. It was the strange lack of heat that made him wake early on a Thursday morning and feel around the dark bed, only to find it empty. Briefly he wondered if she could have been called up for some other mission, then realised that, married or not, his Ranger senses would have warned him to anyone coming into the room. She must have gotten up of her own accord.

 _Gorlog's beard, what time is it?_

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes he pulled on his trousers and looked around the room. Not a sign. Yawning quietly he pushed open the door to her dressing room. She was there, sitting in front of the mirror in her favourite pink dressing gown (yes, Halt had been surprised by her colour choice too) and staring at it with an expression that would have made a raging Skandian stop in his tracks.

"If you stare at that mirror any harder it's going to crack," he told her, voice still thick with sleep.

Then, when Pauline didn't respond, he walked up behind the chair slid his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. When he did that she sighed loudly and leaned back into him so that he could smell the faint traces of her favourite perfume on her. They were silent for a while until she finally said, "I've got a wrinkle, Halt."

Halt, who had momentarily nodded off, asked, "What?"

"A wrinkle," said Pauline sombrely. "My first wrinkle."

The words "Woman, you left the bed cold and woke me up at some ungodly hour of night all because a perfectly natural line that I cannot even see has formed on your face" were on the tip of his tongue, but, sensing that this was a bigger thing for her than him, he chose not to say them. Instead he asked, "Where?"

"Here," she said, raising a hand to point to right beside her left eye.

Once more there was silence for a while and then Halt said, "Pauline, just to be clear, why is that a problem?"

"It means I'm getting old, Halt," said Pauline heavily, rising from her chair. "It means I'm getting old and tired and worn out."

Now that was something Halt couldn't take. He didn't let her get very far before he hooked his arm around her waist and dragged her back, holding her close to him. "Halt …" she began. She had figured he would try to comfort her but a fact was a fact. She was over forty years old. It was bound to happen sometime and even he could not stop that.

"Don't I deserve my say?" Halt murmured into her hair.

"I suppose you do," Pauline agreed, turning around to face him. He still hadn't let go of her waist.

"Good. Firstly, the old part."

Pauline couldn't help but smile at that. He even comforted people methodically. It was ridiculous.

"My father once told me that aging was a fact. Getting old was a choice. Just because you turn ninety –"

"I'm far from ninety, Halt," Pauline pointed out, but a finger in her lips shushed her.

"I know that. Let me finish," he said, ignoring her rolled eyes. "Just because you turn ninety doesn't mean you have to act like a sad, decrepit old sack. Your age doesn't immediately make you into a different person."

"It does change you though," Pauline pointed out. Halt smiled quietly inside himself. When Pauline argued with you, you knew that she was feeling better. "Time changes you."

"Maybe it does. But you're the same now as you were after dinner," he shot back.

Dropping her head and letting her hair hide her bright red blush Pauline muttered, "Why can't you say dinner instead of _after_ dinner?"

"Because I'm trying to prove a point," he said. "Now, onto the tired and worn out part. Of course you're tired. It's probably so early even a monk would tell you that you were insane for getting up this early. And as for worn out … I've had the same bow for twenty years. When I first was given it the blessed thing was so smooth and shiny you couldn't look at it straight. I still have it today. Yes, it's older and darker and maybe I should polish it more but whenever an archer of any skill sees me with it he'll tell me it's a 'beautiful creature'. All the rest of the world sees is a bow. But the people who know it well enough see something beautiful."

"What's your point?" asked Pauline. _I really am tired, he lost me halfway through._

Halt didn't answer her immediately. Rather he took the chance to lean forward and give her one of the most passionate kisses she had ever received. She didn't resist as he pulled her closer, even put her arm around his neck. She would never admit it, but he could make her melt so easily. And in moments like these, when his hands ran over her back, she felt as if she was going to burn up.

"My point," said Halt, when he finally pulled away for need of oxygen, "is that, wrinkle or otherwise, you're the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

"You really do know how to ruin moments of self-loathing don't you," Pauline remarked.

"Glad to hear that," said Halt. "Now, if we're going to be able to function come morning, I suggest we get some sleep."

"What if I don't care about our ability to function in the morning?" Pauline asked, playing with the tie of her dressing gown.

Halt stared at her for a moment before saying, "Does that mean you want coffee or something else entirely because either way I'm –"

He didn't get to finish his statement before Pauline kissed him again.

 **Sorry I've been silent for ages but updates will be pretty infrequent now since my workload has just increased tenfold with a new job upgrade. They never tell you about all the paperwork. :)**


	8. In Sickness and in Health

In Sickness and In Health

"If I die you must promise to bury me away from that awful church graveyard. I couldn't stand to be woken up every day by the clanging of that blasted church bell," Pauline said from where she lay alone in the middle of their bed, wrapped up in a much heavier blanket than usual.

He was tempted to tell her that if she was dead she wouldn't be waking up or sleeping, but decided to let it drop, given her delirious state. Instead he settled for, "Certainly, dear," and continued to polish his bow.

Pauline made a faint gargling sound and leant back with a groan, pushing her hair out of her face. "And I don't want too many people there either. Baron Arald, Lady Sandra, Will, Alyss and Crowley are alright. And we can't leave out Horace and Cassandra. Oh, Jancis as well! She's an old friend of mine. You mustn't forget her."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Halt drawled.

"What sort of flowers do you think there should be? Lilies are traditional. Or roses. But I've always liked cherry blossom. But then I'd have to survive all the way to spring before I died. I couldn't do that, could I?"

Battling to keep a straight face, Halt said, "We could always freeze you in a lump of ice for a few months, seeing how cold it is around here."

"Maybe. I've heard of this method down south in Arridi of drying the body up with salt. You have to rip the brain and internal organs all out but leave the heart. They believe it's where the soul is kept or something. And then you stuff the body full of sawdust and …"

So she babbled on for the next twenty minutes about the process of mummification as Halt continued with his work, every now and again wincing at her unnecessarily graphic description of how the bloodier steps of the process were achieved. She really wasn't herself. Pauline was no wimp when it came to a good old fight, but she preferred to have her descriptions of serious injuries done clinically, without the excess descriptions.

"Halt!"

Her voice was surprisingly sharp for someone whose right side of their brain had gone on holiday. Turning to face her he realised that she was glowering rather forcefully at him for all the watering her eyes were doing. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?" she said, eyes glittering with accusation.

"Of course I have," said Halt, putting on a purposefully unconvincing poker face. It would be interesting to see just how far off the mark her brain had gone.

"Really? What are you going to put on my grave so I can alert you if I'm buried alive?"* she asked, an eyebrow raised in scepticism.

Halt smiled slightly at that. She might be halfway through the looking glass but she was still sharp as a pin. "Not really, but no offence, dear, you're blathering utter nonsense," he said.

"What do you mean, Halt? This is serious! I could die!" Pauline exclaimed, arms flung wide in a gesture that was quite unlike her.

With a sigh Halt set down his bow and sat down next to her on the bed, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. He couldn't kiss her on the lips unless he wanted to end up vomiting in the night as well, so he settled for giving her a brief kiss on her slightly too warm forehead. "Pauline," he said, staring her firmly in the eyes, "you've got the flu. I think you'll just about manage."

 ***Just in case you're interested, people used to rig up bells above graves with the string in the coffin. To alert people to you being alive, you would ring the bell and hopefully be dug out before you ran out of oxygen.**

 **Yes, I had a free afternoon to get this done! Hope you enjoy it! :)**


End file.
